Arbitration
by Meredith T. Tasaki
Summary: When a wizardry goes somehow wrong, two alien wizards and a confused civilian make their way to Tom and Carl's backyard. Arguing all the way.


Title: Arbitration

Rating: Uh, low PG-13, language.

Disclaimer: I stole the universe, Tom, and Carl from Diane Duane-sama, though I added a few characters and a concept along the way. It would be rather hypocritical of me to ask that no one steal my new characters or concept from _me_, then, ne?

Summary: When a wizardry goes somehow wrong, two alien wizards and a confused civilian make their way to Tom and Carl's backyard. Arguing all the way.

Notes: Because I felt there was a need for more good fics in this fandom. Though I'm not sure this counts as 'good' in any sense but grammatical. XX Using _way_ more of my own experience than is wise... Ah well, can't hurt anyone. I hope. (eh heh)

And rereading 'Wizard's Holiday', I realized to my shock that there _is_ a canonical basis for this; Nita mentions 'arbitration', and dragging the Lone Power to it... I wonder if I knew that?

(-)

Margaret Parkinson had made this halfway into an art form, and she knew it full well as she surveyed the area. The planters by the library were a little too busy for her tastes today; the history building, too sunny. She certainly didn't want to deal with the Army recruiters in the Student Union, and there were a bunch of smokers sitting under those oaks by the parking lot.

And so, she took a seat on a bench under one of the smaller trees and pulled out her bag lunch, wondering vaguely, as usual, if it was indecently dorky to bring a bag lunch to college. As usual, she decided she didn't actually care.

She pushed up her glasses and smiled as she unwrapped her sandwich. Her mother could do amazing things with leftover pot roast, mustard, mayo and cheese. Indecently dorky, perhaps, but definitely one of the better things about this arrangement.

That, and the free tuition. The free tuition was sweet.

_Now if they only gave you some money for the books, as well_, Meg thought, as she took a bite. _'Cause that damn thing ain't worth no seventy-five freakin'--_

Her thoughts were interuppted by the sudden gust of wind and clap of sound in front of her. She caught her lunch bag before it flew away and looked up.

"--WHAT DID YOU DO!"

"Look, it's RIGHT HERE, we need SOMEONE to--"

"What do you MEAN we need someone to-- YOU STARTED THIS!"

"I did NOT! YOU started this when you INSISTED on bringing--"

"We NEED this!"

"IT'S A WORTHLESS PIECE OF CRA--"

"DON'T SAY THAT IN THE SPEECH, YOU MORON!"

"Don't say THAT in the Speech, you stupid son of a--!"

K'raen stopped short at the strange look on her companion's face. She turned her head in that direction to see a humanoid, an unhealthily pale shade of pinkish tan, with weirdly straight hair (the darkness of which seemed to indicate she was a hell of a lot older than she otherwise looked), and dressed in oddly truncated garments. Holding what might be food. And staring at them like they were aliens. Which, she realized uneasily, they were.

"Uh, dai stiho," said Aumi, awkwardly.

Meg continued to stare at them.

"Uh, we're kind of lost, and we were wondering if you could give us some sort of directions?" he tried.

"To... where?" she asked, in shock.

"Rirhath B? Or Auraelia would do, if you don't--"

"To WHERE?"

"Rirhath B? Haven't you heard of it?" K'raen asked, curiously.

"Uh, NO..."

Aumi glared at his companion. "SEEEEEE! I _TOLD_ you that was stupid! Where the hell have you sent us, ditz!"

"Look, I'll find out, okay? I'll just check the manual and--"

"Check the manual, check the manual, that's what got us into this mess in the _FIRST_ place!"

"And it'll get us OUT if you shut your damn pie hole!" K'raen flipped through the pages, trying valiantly to ignore him.

Meg continued to stare at them, mind spinning, quietly cataloging the impossible things about this situation. They were pink, for one thing. With wild blondeish afros. And somehow subtly _stockier_ than normal, built somehow differently. And had appeared out of nowhere. And weren't speaking English, but somehow she understood them anyway.

She glanced nervously around to see if anyone else was here to see this. The place was pretty secluded, and there wasn't much traffic between classes, so, not hearing any screams or loud thuds or sirens or anything, she figured the answer was no.

"Okay. Sol 3. This is--"

Aumi grabbed the book from her. "Where-- WHAT THE! This is LIGHT-YEARS from where we were! What the HELL did you DO!"

"Shhh!" Meg hissed.

K'raen snatched her book back furiously. "Mass, population-- oh hell."

"What?" Aumi grabbed the book back. "Sevarfrith-- what's this mean?"

"It means you can't do wizardry here. Not in the open."

"Why wouldn't you be able to--"

"Because not everyone knows it EXISTS, _shauma_!"

"SO!"

K'raen took her book back again. "...Good God, I think they don't even know about life on other planets!"

"You're kidding me! The hell kind of dump IS this?"

"Hey!" Meg cried, feeling that she should be a lot more insulted at the slight to her planet than she actually was.

"Oh crap," said Aumi. "Thanks to your stupid spell backfiring, we appeared right in front of her."

"Maybe she'll go away."

To Meg's shock, they turned their heads to her simultaneously, staring at her as if they actually expected her to politely vanish into thin air.

"I'm sitting RIGHT HERE. Pretending I'm not here isn't-- really considered all that polite on this planet, a'kay?" She shook her head, worried, for whatever reason, that if they kept staring at her that way, she actually _might_ vanish.

"What the hell do we do?" Aumi hissed.

K'raen thought about it, then bowed. "_Dai stiho_, ma'am. I'm K'raen, and this moron is Aumi. I guess this-- must be a shock, but could you help us, maybe?"

"Uh..." Meg blinked, derailed by the question into 'help' mode. "Maybe. But I doubt it." She checked her watch. "I got an hour and twenty minutes 'til my next class."

"All right. Here, I'll call up the address of the nearest Advisory. Could you help us get there?"

Meg blinked. "No."

"Why not?"

"I can't drive."

"What... oh never mind, you're coming along anyway," said Aumi.

"EXCUSE me?"

"He's right," said K'raen, having the grace to look slightly sorry about it. "We can't just leave you after this. We've got to figure out what to do with you."

"Oh my holy god." Meg put her head in her hands as images of what exactly they might do to her flitted through her mind.

"Hey, is that food?" Aumi asked. "Can I have some?"

"NO."

Aumi fidgeted and looked regretfully away, staring into the distance with piercingly sorrowful deep blue eyes.

"...Fine. But if it's poison to you, I'm not helping. And don't eat the plastic. Unless you-- like eating plastic, or whatever. Feel free to choke."

"Thank you!" Aumi accepted the sandwich and started to eat.

Meg shoved the remainder of her lunch in her backpack, zipping it up, angry at herself for caving. Damn brat had some sort of... tragic prettyboy charm about him, or something, for all his bitchery.

"All right, can you read this address?" K'raen handed her the book.

Meg blinked at it, making an unnecessary move to push up her glasses. "There are several. Which one?"

"Uh... the closest?"

She sighed and scanned the addresses, realizing belatedly she had no idea where any of these streets even were. "Um... Can't you just magic us over or something?"

"You're gonna trust HER to--?"

"SHUT UP!" K'raen whacked him over the head with the manual. "Yes! As a matter of fact, I _can_. Now. We'll need to include you in the spell, so we'll need your name."

Meg blinked. "Margaret," she said.

"Ah, it's more complicated than that. Okay. Let's see. I could ask you the questions... Or... C'mon, Aumi, help me."

"Oh dear god."

"This is perfectly safe!"

"That's what you said LAST--"

Meg got up nervously. "Uh, I could..."

"No. Stay right here. This'll just require you to be willing to tell us your name. Read with me, Aumi."

"This is stuuupid..." he warned, shoving the plastic wrap from the sandwich in his pocket.

"Read!"

Meg stood there, blinking nervously, as they read together from the book. She noticed that everything had suddenly become very still, and there was a faint gold circle traced around her feet.

"Now," K'raen said, looking up. "Tell us your name. Your full name."

Meg blinked, confused. "Margaret Alicia Parkinson."

As she spoke, a long blue chain of symbols appeared before her in the air. Aumi plucked it out.

"The hell does all this mean?" he said, poking at it.

"I've only had this thing for a couple weeks, I haven't had time to memorize all the kanji! Just hook it in, okay?"

Meg blinked rapidly, agape, at their mention of 'kanji'. _But then again, they aren't speaking English at all, are they? So they probably mean a similar concept to kanji or something, and my mind is just interpreting... uh... whatever. Too many sci-fi novels..._

"Okay, destination," K'raen said, and pulled a line of Arabic-looking cursive out of a book and into the circle of the spell.

"Step inside the circle here," Aumi said, pulling her in as K'raen dropped the chain onto the ground.

They started reading again, and Meg noticed that their voices had an interesting kind of harmony when they weren't yelling at each other. She wondered what exactly they were arguing about, anyway.

The circle grew silent, unnervingly silent, and the wind picked up. Those voices she couldn't understand were getting louder, almost yelling-- someone would _hear_-- and the world was collapsing, _she_ was collapsing, they were going to kill her, _she was going to pop out of existence_--

With a small clap of air, they appeared in somebody's backyard. Meg gasped for air, reaching out a hand to steady herself, except there was nothing, nothing to hold on to. As her vision cleared, she noticed, to her relief, that there was a big wooden fence surrounding them, so at least they wouldn't be seen.

"So..." K'raen looked around. "Where are they?"

Meg took a moment to react, then glanced at the house, heart rate quickly dropping. "It looks like there's a note on that door..."

"Well, what're we waiting for?" Aumi dragged a hesitant Meg to the back door.

"This might not be strictly legal..." she warned, nervously.

"Read the damn note."

"'_Dai stiho_, cousins!'" Meg read, perplexed. "'If you are reading this note, I'm afraid I am at my job. However, you can do me a favor and direct your inquiries to these coordinates. Tell Carl to not speak of things he knows nothing about, e.g. Laplasian diagrams, proper Advisory-journeyman relations, and the decoration of my house. Though, as it happens, he may actually know something about home decor. But that's not my place to judge. Regards, Kathleen Dublinski.'"

"I don't get it," Aumi said bluntly.

"She's redirected us," said K'raen, copying the coordinates in that strange cursive.

"Yeah, to a guy named Carl, whom I think she's obliquely accusing of..." Meg trailed off, hesitant to voice the allegation.

"C'mon, in the circle." Aumi dragged her in again.

Meg looked at her watch. "I only have an hour until my next class, is this going to take very long?"

Aumi shot her an exasperated look. "Who the hell cares about your _class_!"

K'raen, to Meg's initial surprise, spoke up to defend her. "Well, who the hell cares about that piece of _crap_ you insisted on bringing instead of the--"

"It's NOT a--"

"_People!_" Meg cried, getting rather irritated. "Look, I don't know what you're talking about, but it's obvious that whatever 'piece of crap' he's brought along, he thinks is useful! Maybe even _means_ something to him if he's being this bitchy about it. You've been arguing for twenty minutes, at _least_! So why don't you just let this _drop_? It's not like this is life and death!"

"Yes, it IS!" K'raen yelled. "You don't understand! People die on these things all the time!"

"These things?" Meg blinked.

"Yes! Ordeals, they're called. You go out and you face the Power that created Death and a lot of times you don't come back! And I _know_ you think I'm being obsessive, Aumi, and I am, because _I don't want to die_! Not if I don't have to! And I _especially_ don't want us to die because we were dumb enough to leave something behind!"

"It's _not_-- oh, look." Aumi reached down into a pocket of his robes and pulled out something that looked like... Meg wasn't sure. Wavy strips of metal, about half an inch thick with an oval cross-section, interlaced into a long rod about the width of a bicycle handlebar. "I was doing things to it, okay? I found a bunch of metal wizardries and air wizardries, and it's not just a flute anymore."

Meg got the feeling that 'flute' was another strange analogy, like 'kanji' had been.

"Well..." K'raen said doubtfully. "Still, the _shiraimau_ could've been important... we shouldn't have left it behind."

"...K'raen," Aumi said, abnormally subdued, "this is the only thing I've got left from them. This is the only thing I kept the government from selling when they died."

K'raen's eyes widened. "You didn't tell me that!"

"You knew my father played the flute!"

"I-- I know, but..." K'raen shook her head, appalled. "I didn't know, Aumi, I didn't realize it was _that_. I thought it was just... I didn't realize you'd done things to it. Why didn't you tell me you'd done things to it?"

"I figured you'd know. You always know everything else. But... that's all just 'cause you read so damn much, isn't it?"

She nodded, with a slight laugh. "You should _know_ I'm no good at real life. I'm so sorry."

He smiled at her. "Yeah, me too. So we're both complete idiots. Peace?"

"Peace." She reached out a hand and they twined fingers briefly.

Meg felt strangely happy, probably because she felt smug about calling the 'tragic prettyboy' thing. She considered calling their attention to the task at hand, but that would be rude, and anyway, any second now Aumi would probably--

"Right. Now, let's find this Carl guy, figure out how you got us here, and figure out what to do with _her_."

Meg would've snapped irritably at him, but the charming smile he gave her-- sharp, humor-filled, half-grateful-- told her that he hadn't really meant it the way it sounded. Unless, of course, she was being played. But that was a risk she was willing to take.

"Well, you want to get us out of here? Let's read!" K'raen pointed out.

"Bookworm. You must just _love_ that that's the solution to all our problems now..."

"_Read_."

Meg found herself enjoying the harmony of their voices almost proprietorally, weirdly smug over her good deed of the day. It was strange; usually she hardly ever spoke unless spoken to, and _certainly_ didn't run around giving advice.

But that wasn't even the strangest thing that had happened in the last five _minutes_, so she dismissed it for later contemplation.

Another unnerving incantation, and they were in someone else's backyard. In, fortunately, another secluded space.

Meg shrieked as a friendly sheepdog launched itself at her, barking loudly.

"What the... Annie! Stop scaring our visitors!"

There came the sound of a glass door sliding open, and footsteps approaching them. Meg was too busy trying to get the dog off of her without hurting it to pay much attention.

"Dai stiho," said a dark-haired man, pulling the dog off of her. "I'm sorry, Annie and Monty get a little too... _friendly_ sometimes."

"That's okay," Meg said shakily, dusting herself off, "I had a dog once, I get it."

"So." The man surveyed them, with a friendly smile. "This is probably going to be a good story, isn't it?"

Meg laughed nervously and backed a step away, motioning Aumi and K'raen forward, as this was _their_ problem anyway.

"Um, dai stiho," said K'raen, bowing quickly. "We, um... we need to find out how we got on this planet, really."

"No, we don't," Aumi pointed out.

"Well, _I_ want to know, dammit!" K'raen cried. "And also... uh..."

The man sighed, with a smile. "Why don't you come in? I have the feeling this might take a while to tell."

"No it won't," said Aumi.

"It seems complicated to _me_," Meg mumbled, pulling her backpack closer as she followed the man and the two aliens into the house.

"Here, sit down," the man said, gesturing at his kitchen table. Meg was more than happy to accept, falling into the chair heavily, remembering to take off her backpack, and then dropping her head on her arms. She started taking a few deep breaths, the strangeness catching up with her again now that the smug glow was wearing off.

"So," the man said. "I'm Tom Swale."

K'raen blinked. "What? Didn't that note say Kael or..." She looked at Meg.

"Carl," Meg supplied. "It said 'Carl', yes." She promptly put her head back down.

"Ah," said Tom. "What note exactly are you talking about?"

"Uh..." K'raen looked at Aumi.

When the silence drew out a little long, Meg felt obligated to speak up for the group, a trait which usually got her well screwed over in group projects at school. "It was on someone's back door. Kathleen, her name was? It said that she was at work and to come here. And-- well." Meg coughed, remembering the note's innuendo.

"Ah, Kathleen Dublinski." Tom smiled wryly. "She hasn't forgotten the Christmas party, I see. My guess is that she was hoping to bother us by redirecting visitors here."

"Christmas--?" Meg shook her head violently as she realized she didn't want to know.

"Oh. We're sorry," said K'raen.

Aumi stared at her. "Why? It wasn't _our_ fault."

K'raen glared at him.

"Well, as long as you're here, why don't you tell me your problem?" Tom suggested, pulling up a chair. "That's still part of my job description, you know." He looked at them expectantly.

"I don't _know_ your problem," Meg said after a moment, not lifting her head, "you're on your own."

"Right," K'raen said. "Okay. So we're on our Ordeal, I think, because we were trying to go to Shi'maulien for our school trip because we missed the 'gate, except things attacked us when we got there and we had to run away. So I think we're on our Ordeal."

"I suspected," Tom said.

"And I was trying-- well. I was doing a wizardry and somehow it brought us here."

"All right. May I see your manual, please?"

Tom took her book and flipped through the pages, tapping occasionally. His eyebrows raised. "You were trying to invoke an Arbitration?"

K'raen flushed, literally red. "Well, we were kind of fighting, over something really stupid, and I thought..."

"Well. That explains the transit; unless you specify otherwise, you may go to the judge, and not the other way around."

"Oh." She grew redder.

"You've obviously been reading quite a lot, haven't you? That's an obscure spell, and complex, too. Still, I don't see why it would have brought you so far out of your--"

Tom stopped abruptly. "Ah. See here? I think you meant to add a line to this character."

"Ah!" she cried, looking over the spell. "I can't believe I missed that!"

"How much did she screw it up?" Aumi asked, curious.

"Not substantially," Tom said, a strange note in his voice that almost made Meg look up. "Actually, the difference is in the order, the ranking of the judge summoned. You intended to go to a lower-ranking judge-- more like a small-claims court. Is that translating all right?"

The two nodded.

"And with this mispelling, you're calling for... a higher-ranking adjudicator."

"...How much higher?" K'raen asked, dubious.

"Well. Not the highest rank, of course. The highest rank is pretty much only one person, and is given the authority to help settle disputes among the Powers themselves."

"And that works very well, does it?" Aumi rolled his eyes. "I ask based on prior evidence."

"This would be... the second rank," Tom said. "Given authority to settle disputes between... oh, pretty much everyone else. Interplanetary, intergalaxial affairs... Though that level of dispute doesn't happen very often, and even less often are they resolved through the court system. They often take on less illustrious cases, though, for efficiency's sake."

"Powers," Aumi breathed. "She was gonna drag our fight to the _Supreme Court of the Universe_! They wouldn't have taken _that_ well. We're lucky it didn't work."

"A spell always works," said Tom.

Meg thought about this and felt a cold feeling in her stomach.

K'raen blinked. "But if it worked, wouldn't we have been taken to a court?"

"No," Tom said, "just to the nearest second-tier Arbitrator. And as you might imagine, those aren't exactly common. So it's understandable that the spell would take you so far away; in fact, it's remarkable that there was one so close."

Aumi blinked. "But we didn't see any judge."

"What exactly happened when you cast the spell?" Tom asked.

"Well, we appeared somewhere in this place, in front of-- _her_."

Meg felt their gazes turn upon her. "No way. No. It isn't right," she said, not raising her head.

Tom looked at the other two thoughtfully. "And you've stopped fighting, haven't you?"

"Well, yeah," Aumi said, "we were just both being stupid."

"And how did you realize that?"

"I was..." K'raen said slowly, with a tone of dawning revelation that Meg did not like at all. "It was her. She told us to stop fighting because it wasn't life or death, and I told her it was, and... it all came out from there."

"Coincidence," Meg said firmly.

"Your name!" K'raen flipped a page in the manual and showed it to Tom. "You see? That's her name. And I was _wondering_ what all those words meant, and that's what it is, isn't it?"

"Oh my god," Meg moaned, shoulders sinking. "Magic? Okay. Aliens? Okay. I'm secretly a Supreme Court Justice? THAT'S A LITTLE MUCH!"

"Well, technically you can't become an Arbitrator until you agree to, and say the oath..." Tom said. "But... you didn't know about wizardry?"

She shook her head.

"Wow." Tom blinked. "You _have_ had a bit of a day, then, haven't you? Would you like some coke?"

She nodded.

"I'll get you some coke."

"Hey, why don't _we_ get any?" Aumi demanded.

"Because it would poison you and you'd die in two hours," Tom said pleasantly. "Of course, if you still want some..."

Meg finally raised her head blearily, glancing at her watch. "I have a class in forty minutes."

"...We can maybe get you back by then. After all, you'll want some time to think about all this before you make a decision." He put a can of coke in front of her, and she nodded in thanks, straightening up.

"...So I guess this means we don't have to erase her memory," Aumi said, sounding faintly disappointed but mostly relieved. Meg considered punching him for the disappointment but didn't really want to bother.

"Well, you don't just do that _automatically_. There are some non-wizards on this world who know about wizardry. And as long as they don't try to do us any harm..." He glanced at Meg.

"What? Me?" She jerked her head up. "No, no, never. You'd kick my ass. Or erase my memory. And it wouldn't be nice. Witch hunts, and crap. Best case scenario, people hitting you up for repair jobs all the time. I watch the anime. Also they'd think I'd gone crazy. I don't think I'd be able to convince them otherwise. Still working on myself. Isn't going very well." She ducked her head back down and took another swallow of her coke.

"Well, then." Tom smiled. "I suppose you two will want to get going, then."

K'raen looked around Tom's kitchen, with a strange look of wistfulness, reluctance, and foreboding. She really thinks she might die today, Meg realized, and the thought sent a shudder through her.

"Sure," Aumi said, sounding just a little nervous. And perhaps a shade eager. The thought that _he_ was thinking that he might die today as well, except he wasn't particularly afraid of the prospect, made Meg shudder more.

"All right. Since you've gotten so far off-track, you may want to try the Grand Central worldgate. To get there-- well, you should probably transit straight there; you'd be somewhat conspicuous on the street, and after all the traveling you've been doing today, I don't think you'll want to waste the power for a camoflauge or invisibility spell. I'll give you the coordinates..."

Something had bothered Meg about that sentence, but she'd been distracted by another sheepdog nuzzling her leg and had forgotten what it was. She hesitated, then patted its head as the other three prepared the spell.

"_Dai stiho_, ma'am," K'raen said, startling her.

"Yeah, thanks for the sandwich, lady," Aumi said, and the two bowed.

"Uh, you're welcome. Good luck." Meg leaned forward awkwardly in a bow, even more unsure about protocol than usual.

The two started to recite the spell, and Meg noticed again the strange stillness that came over the room, the harmony of the pair's voices. The dog thumped its tail, looking almost thoughtful, as the two disappeared.

Tom sighed, looking at the space where they'd been. "Well. Given that you're not a wizard, I think I owe you a more detailed introduction. I'm Tom Swale. I'm a freelance writer and a Senior Wizard."

Meg blinked at him. "Senior wizard... Exactly what does that mean?"

"It's a rank," Tom said, sitting down again. "There are four on the continent."

"So that's kind of high, then."

Tom smiled. "Yes, those two do seem to have trouble going through the system properly. What do you want to know?"

She blinked at him again. "Uh... I don't... It's hard to think of anything. Um... So I'm this judge thing, except I'm not _officially_ a judge until I decide to be and take an oath?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Good. Uh... What exactly does this judge thing entail?"

Tom smiled, and a pile of thick books appeared on the table. He took one from the top. "Well, like I said," he said as he flipped through it, "it means you're authorized to handle any dispute that isn't directly between the Powers. Of course, the definition of 'directly' can get a bit murky..."

"Powers?"

"Gods-- or possibly more like angels. The Powers that Be. Basically, God, the One, created the Powers, and they created the universe. All the universes, as it happens. And then one, the Lone Power, invented Death and was cast out."

"This sounds--suspiciously familiar."

"Well, we had to get the ideas from somewhere; why not from the truth?"

She thought about that and nodded. "So... there's a universal system of laws I'm supposed to enforce?"

Tom smiled. "That gets a little murky, as well."

"I sense a pattern?"

"Well, if the laws were entirely clear, why would a judge be needed?"

"But really," Meg said, looking him straight in the eyes. "Why should I do this? What would happen if I did?"

Tom sighed. "All right. Why should you do this? Well, while it isn't usually a risky job, I'll admit it can be... and, in cases of much significance, you'll have to spend time away from home. Perhaps far away from home. And how long would depend on how long the case lasted. Of course, almost invariably, you could set the court schedule so that you could go home-- but if it was too far away, that would be a bit of a waste of energy, so it could very well disrupt your life quite a lot. But it probably wouldn't end it."

"In contrast to this wizard thing," Meg deduced, vaguely worried.

"...Yes. But there are reasons for it. In your case, it's the same as there are reasons for the laws here on earth; to prevent violence, to end conflicts... and yes, sometimes to punish. To prevent future violence. It's an important job."

"So why're they entrusting a seventeen-year-old to do it? I can't do anything important!"

"Seventeen?" Tom blinked, then shook his head and went on. "There's a reason they chose you, Miss..."

She blinked, and realized she'd been asked her name maybe four times over the last ten minutes and still hadn't given it. "Margaret," she said, "Margaret Parkinson. I like Meg, though, you can call me Meg."

"Meg." He smiled. "They didn't just pick you randomly. If you were chosen to do the job, it's because you _can_, better than anyone else."

"But..." She squirmed. "I don't even know _our_ law..."

"Well, that can be rectified." He got up and went to a bookshelf, selecting two books that were, she was relieved to see, thinner than the ones on the table. "This one is a book of general knowledge," he said, placing what appeared to be a copy of 'The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy' in front of her. "And this one is specialized to law. If you do take the job, you may need them both. They'll tell you anything you need to know. They have a vocal search feature-- just ask for what you're looking for, and it'll tell you what it knows. And this other one..."

He picked up the Hitchhiker's Guide again. "Like I said, it'll help with general information, on science, magic, culture, or anything you need to know. Also, you'll probably want to learn the Speech, and there are tutorials in there."

"The Speech?" She looked up at him, distracted from her admiration of the 'Hitchhiker's Guide' joke.

"It's... the universal language. Everything understands it. So you may find it useful."

"...Possibly, yeah."

"Also, if you want to talk to me some more-- which I imagine you will, and understandably; this is a lot to think about-- it has a message feature in the back." He showed her. "Call me anytime. Though, preferably not three a.m. Though with my luck, I'll be awake for some reason anyway."

"I wouldn't want to bother you..."

"If you accept the job, you'll outrank me." he said, with a wry smile.

She blanched. "Uh. I-- _really_ don't want to outrank anyone."

"That's a good quality for someone who has rank. You may be able to find all the answers you need in the books... But still, if you need guidance, call me. And if you accept the job and find you need advice... It's not imposing. It's what I'm not strictly paid for." He smiled.

"I was going to ask about salary..."

"Job satisfaction isn't enough?"

"Will it rent me an apartment so I don't have to live with my parents 'till I'm thirty like my mom did?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I suppose not. Yes, you'll probably still have to get a day job. But you are allowed to refuse cases, though it's not encouraged, and since your rank is so high, you probably won't get too many."

"But they'll be a heck of a lot harder when I do?"

"...Yes."

"Wonderful."

"Think about it," Tom said, folding his hands on the table and looking at her with an unnerving intensity. "Close your eyes and forget about risk and trouble and the complications it will cause in your life. Think about the prospect of solving problems, of performing that duty. Does it really hold no charm for you?"

Meg closed her eyes and felt her weak, long-drowned ambition stirring; her sporadic longing for adventure awakening; her wish to find a true purpose, something she liked, something she truly _loved_ growing with a force that startled her.

"It has a charm..." she said slowly. "But one has to be pragmatic. And... what if I screwed it up?"

"Then be careful. You probably wouldn't."

"But... if I did..." It suddenly didn't seem so shameful to her that her greatest fear had always been of being wrong. "Such high stakes..."

"Someone who wasn't worried about that would be unfit for the job." He sighed and looked away. "It's a lot to ask. It's a lot to ask of anyone. The trouble is, by definition, almost anyone who could live comfortably with the idea of that much responsibility would be entirely unfit to have it."

"Yes, I read the real one," Meg said wryly, waving the fake copy of the _Hitchhiker's Guide_.

"So I suppose we're asking you to risk rather a lot-- not as much physically, but a lot with the consequences if you fail. It probably seems like far too much to you-- but it could not have been a mistake. You have the talent for the job. If you can do your best... no one can ask more than that. You are worthy of this. You are capable of it. And you are needed."

Meg looked down, guiltily. "I make snap judgments."

"Really?"

"Of people on TV."

"But hardly when it's presented to you."

"I guess not, but..."

"If I were to say to you that the government should loosen environmental regulation..."

"I'd say that people's and the planet's health has to be more important than the welfare of business, even if business is important to give people jobs. If it's enforced evenly, everyone will have to do it and it won't change the playing field-- unless, I guess, imports don't-- you could raise an equivalent tariff to compensate-- I suppose other countries wouldn't like it, but it'd be easy to paint it as pro-environment and engage in political name-calling until the liberals shame them into shutting up... Except a lot of the competition would be from third-world countries, which wouldn't care... Then again, who runs most of those places, anyway? Us! So they'd be doing the exact same thing, just in other countries, and... hell, what's the point of _anything_?" Meg put her head down on the table.

Tom looked at her, amused. "Not much of a snap judgment."

"Ah, but that's my real problem. I can't make choices. I'm awful at it. I can barely decide what I want on a _pizza_."

"Which is better than the alternative. And you do seem to be rather good at noticing reasoning flaws and your own prejudices, which are both excellent judicial traits."

"I wasn't exaggerating about the pizza."

"Intergalaxial law is a lot like international law. It's nebulous, deeply subjective, and almost impossible to enforce."

Meg brightened. "You mean they could just choose to ignore me?"

"Unless they swear an oath to abide by the ruling, which usually doesn't happen, just in case they don't like the decision."

"Yes!"

Tom couldn't help laughing. "Usually people aren't so excited about the prospect of being ignored."

"I'm weird." She jumped suddenly and checked my watch. "Oh my God! My class starts in ten minutes!"

Tom looked up, concerned. "Do you have time to walk there from here?"

"Uh-- I wouldn't know the way-- where is 'here'?"

"Hempstead."

"Huh?"

"Near New York."

Meg paled, slowly, staring at him.

"...Kathleen lives in Florida, doesn't she?" Tom realized.

Meg nodded slowly.

"So walking's pretty much out of the question, then."

"Yes."

"...I can get you back home, but you may miss your class."

"...I'll just have to deal with that, won't I?"

He smiled. "Well, it's a long transit, and I'm getting old... I think I'll take you to Grand Central. Have you ever been to New York before?"

"No..."

"Then you might as well see at least a little of the city while you're here. And we can keep talking about intergalaxial law."

"God, no."

"You're sure?"

"Well..." She picked up her backpack, nervously, as Tom got his keys. "So exactly how would I explain this to my parents?"

Tom smiled at the very familiar question. "Well, you'd have a number of options there..."

(-)

Mr. Swale had kindly gotten her to Grand Central Station, through a combination of train rides and very long walks. It was her first time on a train. And her first time in New York. And the farthest she'd ever been from home. And the tallest buildings, and the busiest city she'd even seen.

Honestly, seeing New York had been almost as weird as the two aliens materializing in front of her while she was eating a roast beef sandwich.

They'd gotten to the gate, and fortunately, an adjunct psychology professor Meg had once had had also turned out to be an Advisory wizard. Meg paused for a moment to goggle inwardly at the number of 'had's in such proximity in that sentence. Anyway, as such, she'd been able to supply them with coordinates to a stall in the girls' bathroom in the History building.

Meg had had to explain to Mr. Swale that she was taking some college courses because they were free to anyone who had not graduated from high school, and it seemed an excellent deal. Mr. Swale had remarked that intelligence was also a good quality in a judge, and she'd rolled her eyes, thanked him profusely, and stepped through the gate.

By this time, of course, her class was over, but she was able to catch a friendly classmate who, being aware that she'd never missed a class before and must have had a good reason to today, was perfectly happy to xerox her a copy of the day's notes and give them to her next class. She thanked her profusely too, and left to catch a ride home with her mother.

"How'd your day go?" her mother had asked.

"Pretty good," she'd said. "A little long. I may take a nap when we get home..."

She had. And when she'd gotten up blearily at dinnertime, her sandwich was still missing, her drink still wasn't, and the law book and the 'Hitchhiker's Guide' were still in her backpack where she'd left them. Which meant that she'd either gone completely, hopelessly insane, or else it had all happened. She decided that, if she was that insane, it hardly mattered what she did anyway, and decided to go on the assumption that it was all real, which was somehow less difficult to believe than it should be. Maybe she'd read too much fantasy. Maybe some part of her had known that the world was like this all along. Maybe she'd just gone entirely insane. It didn't matter much.

And so she was left here, leafing through the books as she sat in her bed, knowing very clearly that she was left with a choice.

On one side, self-preservation, cowardice, pragmatism, doubt, self-esteem issues and a whole lot of fear. On the other, duty, responsibility, sense of adventure, faint ambition, stronger wish to do-- what was right, what she wanted, what she was _supposed_ to do.

It was a choice... but they had chosen her for a reason. She didn't want to let that Mr. Swale down... but that was hardly a reason to do anything. But he thought she should do it for a reason...

"D'you have an entry on judges?" she asked the psuedo-Guide. It suddenly moved in her hands, flipping itself to a page and highlighting the relevant entry. Nice of it.

The responsibilities she knew, but...

_Arbitrators often display an ambivalence toward wizardry and the Powers that can be unsettling to wizards, who, by definition, are usually quite clear about the morality involved in wizardry's current applications and the Fall. This is due to the fact that Arbitrators, by nature, have a strong tendency to be perfectly objective, and a moral and intrinsic obligation to listen to all sides of a story. Wizards thus may find Arbitrators unnerving, and may, unless corrected, mistake them for agents of the Lone Power. Arbitrators have, indeed, decided cases in favor of the Lone Power's forces, and as such are widely mistrusted by wizards who do not understand their powers and obligations. This has contributed to the growing number of cases in which one or all parties disregard the Arbitrator's decision. The Arbitrators, as a rule, do not mind this; in fact, many are happy to be relieved of the responsibility. However, in such cases, the outcome almost invariably is worse for at least one (and usually all) parties than abiding by the Arbitrator's decision would have been. A wise wizard who goes along with the decision of an Arbitration will almost always find that their decision was for the best._

_While Arbitrators are fallible, they are usually, by their very nature, correct. Often, when a judgment is thought to be 'wrong', closer examination will reveal that one or more parties have lied or hidden information from the Arbitrator. While an experienced Arbitrator can usually tell when the truth is being hidden, they can sometimes be fooled, which will sometimes (but not always) lead to an imperfect decision._

_Arbitrators are not physically or metaphysically different in structure from their native species. They do, however, have the specialized talents necessary for their job, which may or may not be outside the parameters deemed 'normal' in their species. Arbitrators will often seem quite normal until summoned to an Arbitration, wherein their talents will awaken (provided they are at other times dormant, which, while common, is not typical). Ancient and powerful wizardries protect Arbitrators and their relatives from being harmed by those privy to a case. These wizardries, while powerful, are also not infallible, and there have been a few rare cases in history of Arbitrators or their families being attacked in an effort to sway the Court's decision. Usually this has resulted in the Arbitrators doing their best to give exactly the same decision they otherwise would have. In a very few, the attackers have gotten what they wanted. More often, Arbitrators have punished the offending party severely in the final judgment, which is why such attacks are very rare._

_Though Arbitration is not frequently utilized by wizards, it is sometimes the best or only way to settle a dispute. While Arbitrators are sometimes looked down upon for their ambivalent, agnostic reputation, in most places they are respected for the power they wield and the necessary role that they have played with such skill and dignity. And in many places, they are revered for once having stopped an injustice, averted a war, or otherwise having saved the lives of entire races, or entire worlds._

Meg leaned back against the wall and sighed miserably. Her heart was telling her one thing, and her brain was telling her that she was going to screw this up and kill a vast number of people. But she'd been chosen, right? And chosen for a reason. And if she shut up that voice in her head that kept telling her she'd fail...

She wanted to do it. She knew she should do it. An obligation and a desire.

She couldn't let the universe down just because she refused against all evidence to believe that she was smart... And she _was_ capable of it, she **_was_**, as much as anyone else, as arrogant as that seemed to her to admit. She could always quit if she really _did_ suck at it, couldn't she? If they'd made a mistake, someone would tell her.

And, if she forced herself to look at it objectively, there were worse candidates.

She thought about it one more time. It would interrupt her life, she'd have to have _two_ jobs, she might start disappearing or having people appear in front of her with no warning...

But if she thought seriously about the prospect of having that as her future, it wasn't so scary at all.

She sighed. "I hope I don't regret this," she muttered, and opened up the law book. She'd been intrigued by all she'd seen when she'd flipped through it, though she obviously had an obscene amount to learn. But what she was looking for was on the very first page.

"In Life's Name, and for Life's Sake," she read, "I pledge to create harmony to the best of my ability. I pledge to keep a clear and unbiased mind, to clear myself of all prejudices to the best of my ability, and to question everything in search of Justice and Truth. I will listen to all sides of every story, ignoring personal interests, and will decide each case without prejudice, offering the fairest solution I can reach, obeying as many laws as I can and striving to do injustice to none. I pledge to do my best to seek, find, and create justice, to try to find solutions in an ambivalent world. Please help me. Amen."

She closed the book and closed her eyes with a sigh, breaking the silence that had settled over the room. But what if there was a law that said, that said people who went into debt had to sell their kidneys or something? If she thought the law was morally wrong, did she still have to enforce it?

'Individual Arbitrators may have somewhat different styles,' the book had said, 'and seem to be assigned the cases that are most suited to them. However, there is no universal moral or legal code.'

In other words, Meg thought, it's up to you.

No... 'To seek, find, and create justice'. It really was less a court than an arbitration: the goal was to come up with the fairest solution possible.

But the definition of _fair_...

She moaned. She hadn't even gotten a case yet, and this job was already driving her crazy.

No, she remembered, she _had_ gotten a case...

She picked up the 'Guide'. "Tell me, um, information on the status of... Aumi and K'raen."

The 'Guide' flickered an innumerable list of entries in front of her, and she grimaced. "Wizards," she said, and it got somewhat shorter. "On their... Ordeal thingy. The ones I _met_, dammit, can you look that up?"

Well, whatever parameters it had followed, it seemed to have worked; the pictures by their entries looked right. She read the mission synopsis, noting that it seemed to have been posted by an Advisory who had gotten an account of what happened.

'...managed to prevent the wizardry from being completed. However, K'raen fell unconscious from the shock of the broken spell, and Aumi's stasis-wizardry soon faded. While Aumi fought further, using other wizardries he had performed on the auraelin, the two were quickly killed by the Lone Power's followers, most of whom managed to escape during the'

She slammed the book shut and dropped it back on the bed, breathing heavily.

A number of new things she'd seen today. The first people she'd known who had died.

She realized why Arbitrators were ambivalent toward wizardry as she suddenly started to sob.

(-)


End file.
